Silent But Deadly: The Dark Side of Farts

This little poem is for my dear mate. He has the manners of a gentleman during the day but is a drooling, farting, blanket hogging bully at night.

This poem doesn't really do justice to the Fart Symphony that is played out in our room each night. I huff what little oxygen I can glean through my nightgown while reading or watching TV.

What is he doing while I'm trying to not suffocate on my own carbon dioxide? I'll tell you what he's doing, he's having the time of his life in lah-dee-fucking-dah Dreamland!!

He's all smiles and cooing in his sleep like a lovesick school-boy. "Coo...hmmm...phhhhffffffffffft." One can barely hear the evil wind coming....sometimes it's just this spooky little "puhoooooh" sound. Those scare me the most.

Many a night I secretly wish that his asshole would just slam shut for a few blessed hours....or that maybe, just maybe someone somewhere is inventing a device that will allow us to harness the incredible alternative fuel that flies out of that man's crack every night....we could be rich! He could power half the lights in Vegas with the stores of methane that could be harvested from his lower bowel.

So again, without further ado, I give you my latest prose titled:


Is Corking a Loved one Against the Law?


The man that I sleep with
has really bad gas.
He farts all night long,
with his long-winded ass.


I'm at my wits end
with this ill-mannered sleeper;
I'd like to shove a Cork
up his poo-poo peeper.


Disturbing as it sounds
It might really work;
that is if I can locate
a large enough Cork.
P.N. (c) Copyright 2008